


Quarantine

by orsohelpme



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Being nursed back to health, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Humanstuck, Really lame really generic college au, Sickness, but with a plot, so lame, this is literally going to be pure fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:15:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orsohelpme/pseuds/orsohelpme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started out with an ache in his jaw, a tickle in the back of his throat, and a sneeze or two. He wondered briefly if he should slam back a glass Alka-Seltzer just as a precaution. But then he realized that’s a stupid idea because he's Dave Fucking Strider and Dave Fucking Strider never gets sick. </p>
<p>Dave gets sick, and Jade nurses him back to health!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quarantine

It started out with an ache in his jaw, a tickle in the back of his throat, and a sneeze or two. He wondered briefly if he should slam back a glass Alka-Seltzer just as a precaution. But then he realized that’s a stupid idea because he's Dave Fucking Strider and Dave Fucking Strider never gets sick.

The ache in his jaw got worse, though, moving up to throw a party in his temples. A non-stop, skull-pounding, blinding-lights-everywhere party, host: Dave Strider. He shrugged it off as a prolonged migraine, swallowed a couple Ibuprofen and went back to his regularly scheduled life.

Then his throat started hurting more. And by "hurting," he meant "someone poured sand down my throat and then danced on it, fuck." But that had to be allergies. A symptom of allergies can be a sore throat, right? Same as the insane sneezing fits he was having daily for no good reason. Allergies, that's all it was.

When he started shivering and pulled the blankets tighter around himself despite the fact that is was mid-March was when he admitted something was wrong. His head hurt beyond belief, he couldn't breathe through this nose, and mouth-breathing was a problem because not only did it make him sound like a creep, it felt like there was a tiny cactus dancing the Macarena in his throat.

In short: Dave felt like shit, and was definitely sick. He groans and drags himself out of bed. No use wasting away at home. Sick he may be, give up he will not. With the realization that he must be much sicker than he first thought if he was using Yoda-speak, he pulls clothes from his closet and onto his body.

The briefly entertained idea of making himself eggs was swept away by a good look at his clock.

"Fuck!" He grabs his piece-of-shit backpack, brushes his teeth, and runs out the door without even worrying his hair. Oh man. There was no denying he was sick.

   
One sprint across campus later, Dave sinks into a chair at the back of the lecture hall, laying his head down on his desk and trying to shut out the searingly painful ache in his head. Physch 101 wasn't a very important class for him. If worst came to worst, he had Rose to help him. The familiar pat of his hair and sniffle at his ear was also ignored, and he felt the twinge of annoyance in his friend.

"You smell funny, Dave." He had been expecting it, honestly. "And you're ignoring me, huh? Well I'm tempted to give you a nice friendly lick if you're refusing to acknowledge my existence. Might get some reaction, hm?" There was the tinge of caustic mixed with taunting in her voice that defined her so well.

"Resa, I swear to whatever gods have decided to continually fuck with my existence, if you lick me I will vomit on you. No holding back. One-way vomit train, destination: Theresa Pyral. This bad boy's chugging along, finest coal on the goddamned planet; can you hear the whistle blowing? It's coming for you." His monologue was cut short with a moan as his throat decided to protest again.

"If my nose is correct Dave, and it always is, I would say you were sick. And that your metaphor was a little on the lackluster side." He heard the inflections of a giggle in her voice, but could hardly bring himself to care enough. With another moan, he turns his head over just enough to give her a side-eyed-glare worthy of a medal. "I would like to remind you that I am blind, and while I can feel your glare, I cannot fully appreciate the hostility behind it." She settles in next to him, pulling out a notebook.

"If you're blind why are you taking notes?" He mumbles into the desktop.

"Because I can still hear, you fucknub."

"Mmmngf."

"Agreed." With that, Resa turns her attention to the professor rambling at the front of the room. Dave heaves a sigh and sits up, getting a chance to admire her in all her cane-wielding, tie-dyed, ginger glory. "Symptoms?" It was asked without even a cursory glance, more of a clinical inquiry than a friendly question of concern.

"My head is a nightclub, my throat has been transformed into the Sahara, someone turned off my nose, and I'm hot." He gives up trying to sit up and sags back against the chair, admiring the ceiling. Her hand darts out to feel his forehead.

"Definitely feverish. Tell me, have you been experiencing any hallucinations?"

"You sound like Rose."

"Duly noted. Hallucinations?"

"Not any more than usual."

She heaves a sigh. “Dave.”

He breaks. "No, Resa. No hallucinations."

"Alright, well. I'm not a doctor, but you don't sound like you have anything too serious. Once you get into hallucination territory, come see me again."

He makes a sarcastic sound that might be construed as a chuckle. "Sure thing. If I notice anything out of the ordinary on this godforsaken campus, I'll come straight to you."

"Like a human being of the opposite gender showing any sort of sexual attraction to you?" He can feel her grin.

"I'm hurt, Resa. To call me anything less than the suavest of fucking suave on this campus is an insult to my very name. Don't you know I have chicks hanging off of me wherever I go? I'm a fucking magnet. They can't even help themselves."

"And yet, you're still a single loser pining over a dark-haired pixie-child raised in the wilderness." It's mumbled down to her notes but he still hears it. He's not entirely sure how to counter that. There's a long, awkward pause before she breaks the silence. "Sorry. That was uncalled for, even by my standards."

She receives a noncommittal shrug. "It's true, at least. I'm obviously not her cup of tea." There's a giggle from her end. "Yeah, that one was weak."

"Well, yes. But that's not what I was laughing about."

His eyes narrow and he wonders, once again, why the fuck he decided being friends with a blind synthesiate was a good idea. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means nothing. Merely an observation."

"And you have observed what, exactly?"

“That she likes you, dummy!”

“Okay so we’ve now reverted back to fifth graders talking about crushes.”

She scoffs. “The only one acting like a fifth grader here is you, Dave. Playing the ‘No, she can’t possibly like me!’ game is not as fun as it seems. Though it proves to be an ego boost.” He could hear the grin in her voice. “And with an ego as big as yours, you need a lot of boosts.”

“I’d say something self-deprecating, but anything I say at this point would be too whiny to be taken seriously.” He reverts back to moaning into the desktop before him.

Resa sighs and he can hear her resolve draining away as she prepares to rattle off a list as to why they must absolutely be in love. “You two are always together. I can barely get a moment to talk to you anymore, Jesus. Even when you’re not with her, you’re texting her, telling us something funny that happened while you were with her, or saving it so you could show it to Jade when you see each other later.”

"And that means I'm her best friend, Resa. Like I have been since we were freshmen. We tell each other everything, true. We hang out a lot, sure, but it’s not like I’m spending every waking moment with her. I save things because I know she would appreciate them, and that’s just what a good friend does.”

“You’re the clingy couple that abandons their friends Dave! And you’re not even dating!”

He can’t help but snort at that. “So wouldn’t that make you want us to refrain from dating?”

“If it makes the sexual tension that hangs in the air during movie nights go away, then I give you my full blessing. I highly doubt that you’ll be the same clingy couple when you’re actually dating, but if you are, I don’t think many of us will care.”

"Shit, is it really that bad?"

"Dave, we're taking bets."

"Oh, then it's bad."

"We've discussed locking you two in a room together and refusing to let you out until we hear decidedly less friendly sounds."

"Y'all are sick."

"Actually, we're sick of the pining and the stolen glances. And we’re especially sick of the whole prolonged-contact thing." 

"I'm having a really hard time believing anything you're saying."

She lets loose her trademark giggle. "And why is that?"

"Because we've been saying the same things about you and Carson." There's a smirk attached to the end of the sentence.

"The difference between you and me, Dave, is that I agree with what you are saying behind my back. And I have, in fact, said similar things behind his!" It's Smirkfest up in here. Smirks are painting themselves on the walls, the ceilings, on the back of Dave's eyeballs, on the very fabric of Time itself.

They sit in companionable silence after that, her listening to the teacher, him admiring the absolute craftsmanship and skill that went into constructing the piece-of-shit ceiling above them. His mind drifts, wondering about what she's told him. Should he say something to Jade? He doesn't want to ruin their friendship, though. He resolves to move the topic to the “Do Not Think About This At All” section of his brain and turns his consciousness to a much more interesting subject. "So, how did your date go, after all?"

There's a huge sigh heaved as she sets down her pencil and sits back in her seat. "I like him a lot. I really, really do. But sometimes Carson is thicker than my fucking Law books."

Dave lets out a little chuckle. "That bad, huh?"

"He left to go drive Grant home because he was ‘shit-faced drunk.’”

“He should just propose and get it over with.”

“Vicky offered to cut his brake line."

"You didn't say yes, did you? Because if you kill Carson, we're gonna have problems. Who else am I gonna annoy? I gotta raise me some blood-pressure, Resa. It's like a quota. Gotta meet so many digits per month, otherwise I’ll get kicked out of the Cool Kid Club. Then what'll I be? Just regular old Dave Strider, not Dave Strider—Card Carrying Cool Kid. I'll be a shell of a man, Resa. A shell. I won't even be able to live with myself. Might as well take me out back now and put one behind the ear. Put me out of my misery now, don't let me wither away."

"Dave, you're rambling."

He lets out a groan and turns his face down towards the desk, relishing in the darkness his arm provides. "It's the migraine talking."

"No it's not."

"Do you have any Tylenol hidden in those magical pockets of yours?"

"I’m offended by the mild accusation that I am a drug dealer.”

“You know at least three people who are, Resa.”

“Three? Hardly. More like five.”

“Seriously, though, Tylenol?”

“If you're so sick, why don’t you just go home?"

His eyes practically roll against the desk. "Why the fuck would I waste a perfectly good day moping around feeling sorry for myself?"

"Because that is what people do when they're sick, Dave." She retorts. "You're allowed to mope and feel like shit every once in a while, there are actually days given off from work for the specific purpose of lying at home and hacking your lungs out."

It didn't sound too appealing to him, to be honest. Sure being sick sucked, but he's not sick very often, and the idea of lying at home just because felt stupid. "Got things to do, Resa. Places to go, people to see, raps to slam down."

"So Mr. Cool Kid Almighty thinks he's too good to be sick, huh?" She lets out a cackle. "Wait until you start vomiting, then you'll wish you had stayed home."

"Vomiting? I'm going to vomit now too? Oh, Jesus. Please, Universe, inform me now of any other symptoms designed to make me the most miserable human on the planet so that I'm not blind-sided by a vicious rash attack or a symptoms similar to beginnings of the Bubonic plague." He turns to face the snickering girl beside him. "Resa just put me out of my misery now. Please. Take that cane and stab it through my heart." She squeals as he throws his hand over his eyes and twists to flop into her lap dramatically. "Let me leave this cruel world behind, there's no place for a wastrel such as me here."

"People are staring."

"Let them stare! Let them stare at the poor, pitiful human in front of them. Disease-ridden as I am, I might as well be a leper! Take your pick, Resa, kill me, or cast me out of your society so that I don't infect all the others.”

"You're waxing poetic. You should get sick more often!"

"Oh happy cane, this is thy sheath! There rust and let me DIE!"

"Shakespeare too, now? Dave I think you’re delirious."

"Probably am, now that I think about it. I just admitted that I read Romeo and Juliet willingly."

With a shove from her, he heaves himself off her lap and into a sitting position. He sneers at the nosy busybodies still staring after his performance. With his luck, it'll be out across campus that Dave's part of the acting troupe. He'll have the club knocking at his door before the sun sets tonight, he thinks sullenly. Resa ignores any more of his attempts to ask about her not-date, snarling that she'd already missed enough with his yapping. Thinking that its best to let her do her "listening to the teacher" thing, he leaves her be. Might as well stare at that gorgeous ceiling some more. What a work of fucking art. Before he knows it, the lecture is over, and the sudden burst of people shifting paper and chairs makes his head throb. He gathers his backpack and stands, attempting to keep his balance. Resa grabs his wrist before he can turn to leave, though, and he's stuck in her firm grip.

"Just think about saying something to her, okay? It may seem like a bit of a stretch, but just know that even Felicity is starting to complain about you assholes. It’s getting tiresome to watch you two fumble along. Always better to ask forgiveness than permission, right?" She gives him a broad grin, and it's a wonder her face doesn't split in two.

"Pretty sure that’s not how it goes..."

She replies with a curt, "Take the damn advice." And then the hand on his wrist is gone as she gathers her things and hurries off to Business Law. He stares after her for a moment, mulling over her words. Then he hitches his backpack higher on his shoulder and turns to make his searingly bright, excruciatingly loud way to Biology.

**Author's Note:**

> Goodness gracious meeeeee oh my. This my first fic posted to AO3!!! Eurgh I'm torn between excited and nervous because everyone here is so talented and I am just pounding on my keyboard until something coherent comes out.   
> Uhhhh this was just gonna be a really long one-shot but I jumped the gun as well as the shark and decided to upload it in chapters because this has been sitting in Word for literally over a year and I was getting to the point where I am not that fond of it anymore. Also I want to apologize for the generic non-sburb-everyone-just-happens-to-be-a-human-and-in-college-together au but I have a weakness for my babies being placed in a universe far from harm. If anyone's interested in knowing full human names of the trolls, feel free to ask!!   
> Okay, this thing got away from me. Please tell me what you think!!!!!


End file.
